see under:
by Nayuki-Bunny
Summary: "not PERFECT is good" / There are four words that he taught her.
1. h o m e

_**Home** (n)_

_1. a place where one's dwelling affections lie_

_2. a building in which one resides_

_3. a person's native land_

* * *

Home.

The word holds no personal meaning for her. The large and empty apartment she currently inhabits merely serves as a means of temporary placement. She does not have a home.

This does not trouble her: she does not feel the need to be troubled. That is a fact, in all practicality. She does not doubt fact because that is irrational.

She is not irrational.

Quite simply, Yuki Nagato has never felt the need for anything because she had not been created to need anything. Wanting and needing were for selfish human desires. She is neither selfish, nor human.

A bell rings suddenly, and there is an instant flurry of activity. She registers three conversations in the immediate vicinity.

"-I can't, I promised my parents I'd be home for dinner-"

"-you can come over to my house this weekend, or we could watch a movie-"

"-let's walk home together-"

Just as abruptly, the organic life forms are all gone, their idle chatter gone with them. She is still staring vacantly at the book on her desk.

[YUKI.N: _no home and nowhere to belong ._]

Blinking, she terminates the thought process. Unnecessary musings are illogical. She does not need to expend her mental capacities on illogical things. They will only distract her from her assignment.

Her assignment is the priority.

But she is walking down a deserted hallway when she abruptly decides that her place of origin is her home.

A tall white room with tall white pillars. That is how she remembers it.

* * *

[INTERFACE_2 (query): _location_ /q;]

_It is very dim. Too dim to properly register color or shapes. __There are, however, clear clicking and whirring noises resonating around her. They echo loudly throughout the space and in her auditory sensors. _

___Her vision is not adjusting._

_A sudden flicker of light illuminates the area. It casts no shadows, and then it is gone. Slowly, she directs her attention towards the light source, just as it flares again with brightness._

_She stares blankly, even as her visual field is blotted out in white. _

_A flat, toneless frequency is uttering something. Various garbled responses cluster around her, out of sight. They are everywhere at once._

_She listens and does not understand._

_"Defective," they are saying, quickly and efficiently. "Need more time. Reprogram."_

_"There is no time," is the quick and efficient reply._

_She cannot comprehend the overlapping sounds. Her mental processes cannot analyze the situation, nor her role here._

[INTERFACE_2 (query): _identity_ /q;]

_The frequencies repeat. "Defective. Reprogram."_

_"Humanoid Interface."_

_"Defective. Sentiment bandwidth influx." _

_"There is no time."_

_She has a physical form. It is fastened flat onto something. She notes this as the disembodied noises pass over and around her, murmuring incessantly all the while. The weight of her body seems to settle in slowly. She feels bulky and strange. _

_Finite._

_She is staring into darkness, one with no beginning and no end, when the sounds die away. There is a pause. Then, lonely beams of light stretch upward, like pale fingers. _

_Towers. Pillars._

[INTERFACE_2 (query): _purpose_ /q;]

_An audio frequency starts again, but the clicks and whirs sharpen with meaning. __"Mission statement. Locate source of recent data explosion, subject Haruhi Suzumiya, and observe. Report any newfound data back to the Integrated Data Entity. Independent action is prohibited without prior authorization."_

_She can still see the white pillars, even when they fade to black._

* * *

[YUKI.N: _is that "home" ?_]

* * *

"Yo, Nagato."

She looks up from her book, nudging at the glinting glasses perched on her nose. He's watching her. The organic life form referenced as "Kyon."

"Aren't you going?" he asks. "Everyone's left already."

She blinks. Turning her head, she slowly surveys the clubroom. The assorted costumes are hung up, the primitive forms of mental stimulation ("board games," the ESPer calls them) are put away, and the rudimentary data processor is switched off.

There are only two shadows slanted on the floor.

She returns her gaze to the human's. Her book closes with a dulled thud. "I did not realize the time."

"I didn't think so," he replies, shouldering his school bag. She says nothing. Kyon pauses, shifting his weight. "Erm, I'll walk with you."

She processes this scenario as uncommon, and abruptly examines the human's expression. Even with her sizable margin of error, there seems to be no coded message in his facial features. Following her limited knowledge of human conduct patterns, she concludes that the human's unease, combined with his offer, most likely translates to a willingness for discussion.

She nods once in reply.

"It's warm today," Kyon says as they walk out onto the school grounds. "Hopefully Haruhi won't make us join another sports' tournament."

She deems it unnecessary to respond. 531.26 seconds later, Kyon clears his throat.

"_Ne_, Nagato…" he begins. "Are you alright?"

"I am well," she answers, aware that this is the standard reply for such social interactions.

His facial muscles tighten minutely. A frown. "You sure? You've been quiet today… well, quieter than usual anyway, and you seem kinda out of it."

Her skin temperature is 37.0 degrees Celsius. Her systems are online and properly functioning. Her physical form is in accordance with good human health.

Her cerebral processors have not been completely focused on her task.

"I am well," she repeats.

Kyon stops. She stops as well. His frown has deepened.

"You know..." He hesitates, then sighs. "You can tell me if something's wrong. I know I'm a 'lesser being,' and what I can do is pretty limited, but... just because you're different... It doesn't matter."

Her expression does not change. This minimizes superfluous energy loss.

"It doesn't mean that you're any less," Kyon continues. "You're actually a lot better, since you're an, uh, alien. But you knew that. I mean that you're not alone. And so you can share things. If you need to. If you want... You're one of us now."

Her skin temperature is 37.0 degrees Celsius. Her systems are online and properly functioning. Her physical form is in accordance with good human health.

There is a foreign sensation lurking in her torso.

[YUKI.N (error): _sentiment_template not found_ ;]

"I see," she says finally.

_You're one of us now. _

[YUKI.N (query): _define_ /q;]

Slowly, the human's shoulders ease. His frown disappears.

"Okay."

[YUKI.N: _home ._]


	2. e x c e p t i o n

**Exception** (n)

_1. a person or thing excluded from a statement_

_2. an objection to a rule_

* * *

Yuki Nagato keeps to herself. This has created an image the organic life forms describe as "stoic" or "introverted."

This is fine. It is not necessary to interact with anyone other than her fellow observers and the subject.

Also, the human male.

She does not bother to establish relationships with anyone else. It is unneeded and unwise.

She had been sent with her back-up to monitor Haruhi Suzumiya. They were to report any disturbances or fluctuations in her immediate data flow. They were also ordered to be as inconspicuous as possible. This would minimize potential suspicions from the surrounding life forms.

Those were their orders. They both understood. Ryoko Asakura hid herself in the midst of the humans. Yuki Nagato watched from afar.

Rapidly and proficiently, both adapted to the new environment. Each gathered information on human behavior and judgment, and applied it to her own personal settings. By the time both had finished uploading data, they would appear to be perfectly normal girls to any bystander.

She had thought so.

She genuinely believed that her mimicry of an adolescent human female was near flawless. The reduction of redundant speech and movement better streamlined behavioral patterns. She always carried out appointed tasks with the utmost precision and accuracy. She comprehended all assignments and her diction was perfect.

And she would've carried on, if Kyon hadn't said anything.

* * *

[YUKI.N (command): _memory_log(10021)_ /c;]

* * *

It was abnormally quiet. Both the time traveler and the subject were gone from the strongest location of data manifestation ("the clubroom," was the reference title the humans used). They had left to distribute fliers for an upcoming event. The ESPer had not come to school.

"Nagato," Kyon said suddenly.

She lifted her head.

57.3% of cataloged conversations had shown that the human prefaced questions with her given name. Sure enough, he pushed his chair back from the primitive data processor and asked, "Why are you so apathetic?"

Her facial muscles did not contort, sag, or move at all. She stared. He stared back.

[YUKI.N (query): _define_ /q;]

"Apathetic." she repeated.

[YUKI.N: _without interest or emotion_ .]

He nodded, gesturing vaguely. "Yeah, like that. No reaction. Someone else could've accused me of slander and started a fight."

She redirected her visual feed back to the book lying open on her lap. The print in front of her unfocused.

An unassuming human might've thought that she'd been upset by Kyon's speech. Instead, she was playing his soundbite in a steady loop, running analyses on his body language and tone inflection, and choosing the words to her response.

She finished 10.32 seconds later. Kyon was watching her with interest.

"You wish to fight me?" she clarified. The blood flow to his face stopped abruptly.

"N-no!" He waved a hand vigorously. 1.6 calories expended. "I just meant that... humans are willful. It's unusual if they don't react. In comparison... you're apathetic. Forget about fights."

She had only recently registered a new sentiment template in her personal database. The organic life forms called it "confusion." They were particularly good at evoking it.

"I believed that I had incorporated enough data into my personal systems to pass as a 'normal' human in this setting," she said. "Is 'apathetic' still a verifiable description?"

"...Yeah," Kyon answered. Her cerebral programs recognized his countenance pattern as amused. "You hardly speak to anyone, laugh, or interact."

[YUKI.N (command): _upgrade_behavioraldefn(3154)_ /c;]

She was silent for a moment. "I do not engage in interaction with you?"

This made him frown. "...You do," he admitted. "But you should probably talk to other people, too. You barely speak to Asahina-san or Koizumi. Technically, they're your colleagues, right? I can understand why you wouldn't want to talk to Haruhi... Anyway, you could benefit from making some friends. People could think you're emotionless."

[YUKI.N: _without interest or emotion_ .]

"I have no need for emotions," she said plainly. "Emotions lead to attachment. Attachment to anything could be a potential distraction from my mission. My mission is the priority. If I had become attached to my back-up, Ryoko Asakura, I might not have been able to terminate her as efficiently when she attempted to eliminate you. You could have been terminated instead."

He gulped, tugging at his collar. An indication of unease. "Well, I guess that makes sense... But you don't have to be completely silent all the time."

[YUKI.N: _quiet, soundless_ .]

"Silent."

"Yeah. It's not a very convincing trait if you're trying to pass as 'normal.'" He studied her thoughtfully. "How many people would you say you've spoken to in homeroom?"

Her eyes unfocused once more. "Synchronization of visual and personal memory logs indicate that I have conversed with the teacher and four students."

"Really?" he asked.

Her auditory sensors caught the surprise in his tone. His overall interest in the subject matter had already led her to tag their conversation as "unusual." For future reference.

"Yes," she replied. "It is not considered 'normal' in human social conduct to remain silent when a teacher or student initiates conversation. Belated responses have also been known to provoke anger or annoyance. These are ultimately unnecessary deterrents."

"You must have at least one person you talk to more than others."

She was statistically unbiased. She did not have to reevaluate her data to confirm this.

"I do not."

"You talk to me."

She blinked.

In that moment, his gaze seemed almost tangible. As though it were something heavy pressing against her, holding her in place.

Waiting for an explanation.

Silently, he turned away, toward the window.

He didn't ask for a response and she didn't give one.

[YUKI.N (command): _tag_exception(002)_ /c;]

For future reference.


End file.
